Saving Liz

Bowling Ball Beach (shown at left) south of Point Arena in Mendocino County has been a goal of Helen's for several years.  She and I hiked down there one early morning a couple of years ago, only to be thwarted at the last fifteen feet by an unscalable, it seemed, section of rock.  Liz and I decided to try it once again today, hoping that Helen and I had not found the proper descent area.  I thought about taking a rope, but didn't.

The day was early, and a minus tide at 5 a.m. provided for beautiful scenery as we headed south, passing coves where the tide exposed rocks normally covered by the sea.  

These low minus tides are unusual, and we chose the day because the early low tides would nearly guarantee that the balls would be visible if we reached the beach early enough.  We were parking at Schooner Gulch a little before 7 a.m. at the trailhead. 

We had researched the recent (2011 and 2012) web info for the trail, and people reported that they could climb down the remnants of a ladder.  Well, we ended up at the same point that Helen and I had two years earlier.  The last fifteen feet were marked by an eroded set of steps, dropping to a smooth and steep sandstone slab.  If I were twenty years younger, I would have started down.  If I had brought a rope, I might have given it a try.  Instead, after a close examination, we both said:  "We need Laura."  Our plan is to send the much younger Laura scrambling down the last part and she can see if we can make it.  I will also bring a rope.

We continued down the road to Sea Ranch since the morning was early and we had all the time in the world.  It was near Gualala that I had to save Liz from an attacking Tyrannosaurus rex.  Lucky I was with her, or she might have been a tasty morsel for those sharp teeth.

These metal monsters (more T. Rex, plus two other types along with a giant King Kong-like ape) were interesting, and probably for sale by the metal sculptor who operates the place.  Also interesting were the deer-resistent plants that graced the trail in front of the T. Rex.  Several are lovely, and I will take them to the Botanical Gardens and hopefully one of their master gardeners can help me find out their name so I can get them for my own garden.  Here are two:

We also spotted birdlife along the way--varying from some perched turkey vultures staring out at the low tide as if seeking a stranded fish...

...to a huge flock of Canada geese grazing in the distance amid the dried grass of a dairy pasture:

They were wary, and moved away from me as I took the pictures, but the telephoto lens showed their beautiful markings clearly:

Back at the ranch well before noon, we took a nap....or at least I did.  Lizzie worked the puzzle.

Fern Canyon

The heat wave has hit the valleys of the Coastal Range, and Benbow is very warm.  Deciding that coastal trips were a better idea, today Liz and I explored Fern Canyon along Little River.  Where once the property included a section of land down to the center of the river, now of course it is all parkland, the old road is a trail, and the vegetation remains as lush as my memories of the beauty from fifty to sixty years ago.

Five finger ferns carpet any areas where springs drip glimmers of water, out-competing the sword fern, carrot fern, and lace ferns that abound.  We once hiked down to this section of the canyon, dropping off from the first flat near the old rough-hewn eastern State Park boundary marker, and would zig zag down the steep hill along trails carved out in the late 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps.  When my Grandfather "J.W." first bought the land, he and my grandmother would carry water up the steep hill to the old house, along what was then undoubtedly a fairly newish trail.  The hand-dug well by the house had fallen in, and water was a premium, so the trek up-and-down the steep hillside, zig-zagging along, was just what one had to do.  It wasn't until after my Grandfather's death that my folks became friends with the Mendosas and were able to fill large metal milk cans with water from the spigot behind the market.

Fifteen or so years later in the early fifties, when I first have a memory of walking it, the trail was masked by fallen redwood needles, but where animals used it as a track, it looked as if it had just been built.  I was a small child when my Grandmother would take my brother and me down the hill to fish in Little River. After trekking down the steep hill, we would have to get across Little River to the south side where the road ran. I remember how icy cold the water was as we took off our shoes and waded across, trying to avoid the thorny berries and stinging nettles.  We would walk along the road--then a paved driving road--to a nearby stone bridge where we generally dangled our lines free from the stinging nettles that were creekside through much of the riparian zone.  We caught small, six inch steelhead, then hauled them back up the hill and "Bigma" would fry them up for dinner.  They could be munched, bones and all, much like fried surfish. 

I am sure that remnants of the zig-zagging trail can still be found on the hill, now belonging to the Park.  That section of land leading to Little River was sold to them by Lincoln and Velva in the late 1950s, since the two both thought it should not be in private hands, but belong to the Park. 

The old CCC bridges are gone, replaced by salmon-friendly arched wooden bridges, and the paved road has narrowed to half its size.  Still, the trail is full of surprises around every corner, and the beauty is beyond words.  Whether Liz is holding a "branch" back for the next person (or maybe a bit bigger than a branch)



or we are walking past small little springs that trickle through the stones and ferns into the creek....

...Little River's Fern Canyon Trail is not to be missed!  Those of us who hiked down to Little River over the years will find the canyon very familiar, and the memories will be as fresh as yesterday.